Sword of Salvation
by Cap'n Dampeal
Summary: 9 years after the events in Soul Calibur II, Raphael's protoge embarks on the swordsman's failed quest to retrieve the Soul Edge.
1. Chapter One

            Two figures stood poised for battle at the edge of an icy lake. The wind rushed the rolling clouds through the pale sky, tumbling them over each other and across white, jagged peaks. It swept across the chill waters of the lake, stirring the tall monk's robes and the slight boy's cloak as they faced each other in duel. 

            The boy squinted his eyes against the bright glare that glanced off his rapier as he withdrew it from his belt. 

            "En garde!" he cried. In the same motion, he launched himself at the monk with a high thrust, and then whirled the blade around to knock back his opponent's staff and slice him in the ribs. 

            The monk blocked the blow askew and promptly delivered three sharp jabs to the boy's gut with the butt of his staff. The boy swayed back and gasped for breath, clouding the crisp air in fierce puffs. The monk took the opportunity to knock the boy completely off-balance with a fierce kick to the ankles.

            "Hah! Offense isn't always the best defense," he grunted as the boy fell under his attack.

            The boy was ready for the fall, and rolled with the force to return quickly to his feet. It was true—Raphael had chided him many times for fighting too offensively and putting too little thought to defense. But the boy would not take such words from the novice monk.

            "It will take… more than mere… words to throw me into the lake," the boy replied, reminding the monk of the conditions of the duel as he launched a successive high, low, then mid vertical strike. 

            The monk blocked the last, then spun the staff to knock the slight boy to the ground again. The boy slid along the frozen snow with the force of the blow, leaving a thin, red smear in his wake. 

            "Come here!" the monk ordered as he leaped after the boy and smacked the length of his staff down upon him. The boy shuddered under his blow, but quickly took advantage of the monk's vulnerable position. 

            The boy kicked away the staff and let the force carry the monk along the slick ground. He rolled to his feet in time to meet the new strike with a guard impact that forced the opponents away from each other with a sharp clang of steel. Both were stunned for a moment, but the boy recovered a millisecond faster and struck the monk with three quick cuts in the chest—the move Raphael called the "Double Apple Cut." The monk's robes bloomed crimson in the center, red as an apple in September. But the boy was not finished dicing him yet—he finished the move with a quick, sweeping strike that cut the monks legs from under him before he had a chance to strike back.

            The monk toppled and slid toward the steep bank of the lake. The boy slid uncontrollably after him, forced along by the momentum of his blow, almost landing himself in the lake. The monk recovered at the bank and for a moment they both danced precariously on the edge. The boy was too frantic. All the monk had to do was step clear of him and the boy would take himself into the icy flows of the river. But somehow he was falling, the boy's hands pressing heavily on his chest.

            The boy launched himself away from the riverbank as his opponent tumbled into the icy river. Freezing water splashed up upon impact, dousing the boy almost as thoroughly as it soaked through the yellow robes of his former adversary. And again, when the angry monk vaulted himself out of the lake with his staff. But the boy had met the conditions of the duel, and now he would return to the monastery to claim his prize. 

            "You were not even worth my effort," he sneered contemptuously, but that was a lie. The information he sought from the Sang-Mu Monastery was well worth this little skirmish in the snow. The tall monk had been all too eager to exact that price that the head monk had ordered. Well, the boy hoped he had delivered the impetus young novice a dose of humility. He clutched his wound and stalked off toward the monastery as the monk ran raced ahead of him like a storming cloud.

            "Now, tell me about the Soul Edge." 


	2. Chapter Two

            "Very well, young lady, I shall tell you what I know of the Soul Edge," spoke the head monk. His bald head reflected the golden light of the numerous oil lamps that brightened the monastery's temple and shimmered on the polished wood floor. From the twenty-five radial alcoves set into the five symmetrical walls, twenty-five tall, bronze statues of Buddha listened on in still serenity and composure. For a moment, all the "boy" could do was to roil in sudden fury, her face flushing to match her red hair. _How did he know? _She swallowed her anger, however, and turned her concentration to the wise monk's words.

            "Nine years ago, a man passed through the Sang-Mu Monastery on a quest to dispose of the Soul Edge, for he recognized it for the Evil it was. He had been traveling for an entire year and had yet to find a place that satisfied him as a safe dumping ground for the evil sword. When he came to the monastery, I saw that his own soul struggled with that of the sword, each battling for possession of his body. Weary of the constant warring within him, he wished to leave the sword in the hands of the Sang-Mu Monastery. I denied his request, but told him of a barren, secluded gulch further into the mountains that might provide a resting ground for the sword. Then he went on his way." The temple fell into silence.

            "This man—he was named Siegfried Schtauffen? Tell me when this gulch is," Amy Sorel demanded. The monk shook his head.

            "I'm sorry, but I cannot tell you. He never gave me his name, and I would never reveal the location of the gulch. If you seek the evil sword, then you must find it on your own. I promised you no more than what I have already told you; I cannot help a selfish girl on a quest for a destructive weapon," he replied. Amy clenched her jaw. What did he know about her or her quest? She could not care less about how dangerous the monk thought the weapon was. She needed it for one purpose only, and that was to make happiness return to her adopted father. Could not the "evil" weapon bring joy as well as destruction? Once she had succeeded in her quest that Raphael has failed nine years ago, she knew he would not exploit the power of the sword. She remembered when she was a little girl, only seven years of age, that he had said he needed the sword in order to make the city of Toulouse safe again—safe from the war-mongering lords who trampled the citizens under the boots and had made an orphan of her. Well. If the monk could offer her no more information, then her work here was done. 

            "I will go now. Thank you for your help," she said politely before striding away across the gleaming floor of the temple, ignoring the stony stares of the many Buddha statues she passed. _Father, I will bring you Soul Edge, _she promised silently. 

* * *

            Raphael lounged in his private study. At least, his body was draped easily across the plush velvet chair that faced the fireplace. His jaw was locked in a hard grimace and his fingers clenched a piece of paper so tightly that his knuckles went white. He had read the writing on that paper at least a hundred times since he received it over three months ago, and would continue to read it every day until his daughter returned to him. 

            _This is how you must have felt, Amy, when I left you for almost a year. I went in search of the Soul Edge nine years ago so that I could make this world a better place for you but, in doing so, I abandoned you it. Now you face an even harsher world as you chase after the miracle I failed to bring. I taught you everything I knew so that you could survive this world, but I fear it is not enough. Not enough to make the dream of the Soul Edge a reality. _He cursed himself for a fool, then unwrinkled the worn letter and read it again.

_Dear Father,_

You cannot hide the disappointment in your eyes. When you lock yourself in your study, I know you are crying. If you just had that sword, I know you will be happy again. Like the way we were before. When I return, I will bring the Soul Edge with me.

Love, Amy,

            And it was true. Raphael did cry when he locked himself in the seclusion of his study. Only now, he cried because the only thing precious to him was gone. She was more important to him than the Soul Edge had ever been, he knew that now. 

            _Amy, if only I could tell you this and bring you home…._


	3. Chapter Three

            _I should have asked if I could weather out the night at the monastery, _Amy thought bitterly as she shivered in the icy evening air. She had acted on a moment of pride when she stormed out of the Buddhist temple and there was no going back now. She shook a layer of snow off the thick, red mane of her hair and grimaced as a few of the snowflakes drifted down the back of her collar. She should pull the hood of her cloak up, she knew, but she felt like the damp wool suffocated her thoughts when it hung about her face. She could not stand hearing her heartbeat throb in her ears when she needed to think clearly. Besides, it felt good to walk about without trying to disguise herself as a boy. The mountains were empty of people. There was no one to notice a lone girl climbing amid the rocks and snow, leading a shaggy pack mule burdened with supplies to survive in the harsh environment.

            _In Greece, the disguise hadn't made much of a difference, _Amy reflected. The event, nearly two months past, was now far enough removed from recent memory that she could think on it with amusement. Her father had always warned her that the world was no place for a girl. A boy would be overlooked many places where a girl would draw unwanted attention, and allowed the kind of freedom that a girl could never enjoy. In Greece, however, having the appearance of a pretty thirteen-year-old boy was no better than being a sixteen-year-old girl. She had been groped in dense crowds and unsuccessfully bribed with coppers and candy to climb into carriages or go to a man's room at an inn. She had been lost in a large Grecian city and frightened of the things that might happen to her. Once she decided to turn away from fear, however, her futile wanderings in Athens had transformed into success. She turned her position to an advantage and had secured the information she needed by pretending to be awed by a man's wealth and power—power Mr. Adros had meant to use to get her into bed with him. He spilled what he knew of the Soul Edge, claiming the Pope himself had bestowed upon him a shard of the sword that would one day make him the most powerful man in Greece. However, before his advances on "Andre" could progress much further, she was already skipping off to Rome. _No man can best me, trick me or force me to do anything I do not want to do. The only man who has power over me is my father, _Amy thought proudly as she pushed the memories of her adventures in Greece aside.

            The weather might overpower her, she realized a moment later, if she did not find shelter soon. The snow fell more furiously now, causing Amy to retreat into the damp folds of her cloak's cowl. _Shard, guide me to safety, _she prayed as she clenched at the pouch hanging from her belt. Inside were two fragments of sharp metal. One was a fake Soul Edge shard, a mere trinket she had been duped into buying in Rome. The other was a fake relic, also purchased in Rome. The merchant had claimed that it was a fragment of the Archangel Michael's sword, which had splintered off when he drove Satan from Paradise. Amy had paid the inflated price, however, because she knew it to be a soul shard—a piece of the Soul Edge. She had kept the fake shard, as well, so that she might jam it in the eye of the other merchant on her return trip from the Himalayan Mountains. 

            "Soul shard, mon oeil," Amy cursed as she pressed herself against an outcropping of rock. The overhang above was barely enough to shelter her from the wind and snow, but it offered little protection for her mule. It would do for a short rest, but she must move on and find better shelter soon. She fueled herself with angry thoughts to ward off the fatigue that threatened to overcome her. _That merchant will get what's coming to him. It's karma, or so the Buddhists around here say. Except _that karma doesn't work the way the Buddhists claim it does. There can't be any universal balance, unless one can claim that the situation in Toulouse is a fair one. The rich stomp on the poor and that is the whole of the universal law. It is up to the poor to command karma and force those evil deeds back upon the rich. That's what my father sought to do with the Soul Edge.__

            The wind abruptly changed direction, blasting Amy directly in the face. Beyond the sheet of snow that slashed at her face, the world was a pure white void. _This isn't good. I won't be able to find another shelter in a whiteout_. Pulling her hood completely around her face, she pressed her cheek against the chill rock of her narrow shelter and wrapped her arms around Souris, the mule, to lend warmth to them both. It was not much of a way to weather out a blizzard, but it was better than stumbling around blind in the storm. _I hate stumbling around. I set out with a clear idea of where I thought the Soul Edge was located, but I've only gotten lost since then. Now here I am, the closest to the legendary sword than any person has ever been since Siegfried, the man who became Nightmare. And all I know now is that it's lying in a gulch somewhere in the highest mountains in the world. How can I be so close, yet so far at the same time? _The angry thoughts heated her cheeks and made her blood race, but were not enough to fend off the fatigue that came dangerously close to lulling her to sleep. It was a sleep from which she would most likely never awaken; Amy fought it with tooth and nail. _Damn you, Amy! If you fall asleep, you'll die. If you die, then Father will have your death to grieve as well as the loss of the Soul Edge. You wouldn't hurt Father like that, would you? she demanded of herself, reminding herself of the reason for her quest. She punished herself with harsher and harsher words, berating herself in order to keep her energy focused on her anger. __Anger is fire. Fire will keep you warm. Warmth will keep you alive…._

            Amy's face slid down the rough surface of the rock as her body went limp. She felt like she was slowly sinking through a body of murky water. A fire raged on the surface, but its flames could not penetrate the cold veil of the water. She tried to reach for the fire, but her body was completely numb. Her limbs were useless weights, dragging her down to the bottom of the icy sea. _Am I dying? I'm so cold…. Her thoughts moved as slowly as glaciers creeping down a mountain. _I can't die. I can't. I'm cold. Cold. _Amy's thick cloak, lined with yak hair, and her layers of wool clothing seemed only to encumber her limited movement and speed her into darker depths of the sea. The thought of removing them occurred to her. As soon as this thought registered in her sluggish brain, she found herself watching her fur-lined boots tumble away from her in the murky water. Then the voluminous folds of her cloak as well; it waved like a tangle of seaweed as it floated away from her.  Her crimson-dyed, wool breeches would make a fine scarf for a mermaid, she noted dimly as they, too, disappeared into the chilly murk. And she'd never cared for that itchy shirt, anyway. _Gone, all gone. _She did not feel warmer, but she felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her chest. She had not realized that she had stopped breathing until her lungs began working again, letting a steady stream of small bubbles into the water around her.  They burst as they reached the surface. Then Amy, too, was pushing through the surface of the water. She had not realized that it had been so close the entire time; she thought she had been sinking steadily away from it. She coughed and choked as she emerged into a world that was bright and warm._

  


            "Where am I?"


	4. Chapter Four

            "Where am I?" Amy repeated. This time the demand was directed to the figure that materialized with her new surroundings.

            "You almost froze to death," the person began in Chinese. Amy had almost translated the phrase in her mind when she realized that the boy was pressed next to her near-naked body. 

            "Get away from me!" she shrieked. Her voice bounced off the walls of the small, fire-lit cave and rang in her ears. She threw off the blanket that covered both her and the stranger and rose to her feet. 

            "Who are you?" she continued in Chinese. "And I'll ask you again—where am I?" Amy still wore her undergarments, along with the wrappings that bound her chest flat. But she could not help wondering what might have happened to her if she had not awakened just then.

            "My name is Tenzing. I found you after a particularly fierce blizzard and brought you back to the shelter I had used to weather out the storm," the boy explained matter-of-factly. 

            "You saved my life?" It was part question, part statement. "What about Souris?"

            "I found no companions with you. I'm sorry."

            "My mule," Amy explained.

            "It… died. I had to kill it, you see, so that we both wouldn't starve. The blizzard not only forced me to abandon my hunting, but it also blocked off the passage back to the village. You'll have to take a long detour in order to reach permanent shelter, and there are few rabbits to hunt in that part." As Amy listened to Tenzing, she rubbed her bare thighs with her hands in an attempt to warm them. She understood now that he had removed her clothing in order to bring up her body temperature with his own body heat. And if he had not killed Souris….

            "Oh, Souris," she mourned. The faithful mule had taken her this far, all the way from Italy. It seemed unfair that it should die now.

            "Your clothes could be dry by now," Tenzing said, once more sounding apologetic as he hastened to dress himself. Amy glanced away from him, turning her attention to the fire near the entrance of the cave. Her clothes were spread flat in a semicircle around it, drawing upon the warmth of the flames to evaporate the moisture they contained. A spit roasting a great hunk of meat hung above the fire, filling the cave with a smoky aroma. She thought she would be sick.

            "Je ne pense pas que je prendrai le petit déjeuner," Amy grumbled as she turned her back to Tenzing and began to dress herself.

            "Suit yourself. If you don't have anything to eat, however, I doubt you will have the strength to make it to the village," Tenzing replied. Amy whirled around, her fingers clutching her shirt closed. 

            Parlez-vous français?" she demanded.

            "Eh… un peu," Tenzing answered. He suddenly blushed and averted his eyes from her half-dressed figure, although he had lain next to her near-naked body only a few minutes ago. "I like to pick up what bits of other languages I can. Not many travelers come this way, however, so I don't have many opportunities," he continued in Chinese.

            "Ah." Amy considered herself well accustomed with quite a few languages as well. It was part of the training that her father had imparted to her. "So, um, this village," she began as she pulled on her breeches. "Is it anywhere near a large gully? A ravine of some kind?"

            "I have something to ask you first," Tenzing requested. _So it is! _Amy thought excitedly. _Or, at least, he knows which place I mean—and that means he knows about the Soul Edge. How can I convince him to tell me the way to it? Will he be content to dissuade me by telling me that the sword is evil, or will he try to stop me with force when he realizes that I mean to retrieve it? _

            "Your name?" he asked, snapping Amy out of her excited reverie.

            "Amy Micheline Raphaela Sorel," she replied. She had been born to the name Amy Gasquet, but her adoptive father had gifted her with her new name on her seventh birthday. She waited for Tenzing to say more, but he merely moved over to the fire and turned the spit of roasting mule meat. 

            "No," he finally answered. "The village of Kymiri lies in a valley." He seemed to grow uncomfortable. His shoulders tensed and he poked idly at the charred bed of the fire. Amy folded her arms across her chest and watched him in silence. As she watched, she could not help thinking that there were worse people to wake up next to. Tenzing was slight of stature, but he was still taller than her by a few centimeters. She had first thought of him as a boy because of his slim build, but she realized now that he was at least her age and probably a year or two older. His dark hair was pulled back into a tight, sleek braid that quivered with his nervous movements. His agitated posture also defined the muscles in his wiry arms. _A hunter, yes, she thought. _His village no doubt depends on him to help provide food during the winter. He mentioned that there is little game in the region, however, so he must be accustomed to traveling long distances in these mountains. Perhaps the Soul Edge is not so near as I would like it to be.__

            "Well, I am going to eat," Tenzing announced, breaking the silence. "I'll leave some for you in case you change your mind about breakfast, as well as any of the raw meat that you desire to carry with you."

            "I don't want any of the raw flesh. You can take it to your village," Amy replied with distaste. Tenzing turned from the fire to look up at her.

            "I'm not going to Kymiri," he said. He carved off a hunk of the cooked meat with a long blade and popped it into his mouth. Amy waited patiently for him to finish chewing.

            "Where are you going, then?"


	5. Chapter Five

            "Where are you going?" Raphael's voice boomed in the dimly lit corridor, echoing as in a cave. His servant Adrienne spun to face him, her dark eyes wide and startled. 

            "To visit my family," she stated simply as she regained her composure. "You said I could have the rest of the day off."

            "I did, and I have no intention of going back on my word. I only wanted to know where you were going. Your family lives in Albi, no? You've packed as if planning to journey all the way to Spain," he stated, eyeing the heavy pack Adrienne had strapped to her back. She had changed out of her black frock and white apron into a more durable, coarse dress of plain wool. It was cinched in the middle with a belt that held an array of smaller bags. A white hood covered the dark waves of her hair.

            "It's not truly your business, begging your pardon, sir," she replied tartly. The tone seemed out of place in contrast to her usual soft-spoken manner. Raphael frowned, then let it deepen into a scowl.

            "I don't take kindly to servants who try to deceive me…" he began.

            "Deceive you?" Adrienne responded in outrage before he could finish. "These things are all mine, I assure you. I would never lie to you or steal from your household!"

            "…who try to deceive me," he spoke over her words. "And anything that concerns my daughter is truly my concern." Adrienne opened her mouth to say more, but hesitated and snapped it shut. 

            "Adrienne, Amy is not helpless," Raphael continued. "She is my daughter, after all. There are times when I, too, have almost stepped out of my house, intending to find her and bring her home. Each time I stop because I realize that my chances of finding her are far slimmer than Amy's chances of returning home. I know how you feel. You have almost been a second parent to Amy, especially when I left in search of the Soul Edge nine years ago. I know you care for her deeply but, please, you must have faith in her as well. She will return home alive, whether she finds the sword or not, and I want you to be here for her when she does." 

            "You are right," Adrienne replied sadly. "I only wish that I could help her somehow, other than pray to God for her safety every day."

            "Me, too, Adrienne. Me, too," Raphael agreed softly. Tears brimmed in his servant's eyes and a lone tear glistened briefly in the candlelight before falling down the curve of her cheek. Raphael reached forward to gently catch the teardrop with a gloved hand. "I'm not angry with you," he said as several more tears blossomed in her dark eyes. He then drew his hand away and moved to shift the pack off of her shoulders. Something in the bottom on the sack made a tinny sound as it landed softly on the ceramic surface of the corridor. 

            "I'm sorry, sir," she apologized anyway. She grabbed the baggage with both hands and hauled it with her as she shuffled toward her quarters. Raphael strode toward the opposite of the mansion, his footsteps ringing on the tiled floor in steady, even beats. 

            _Amy, are you punishing me for not being there when you needed me most? _he wondered. Tears sprang to his eyes but he blinked them away self-consciously. _I know that was my intent when I ran away from my family once as a child—I wanted to hurt them, especially my father. I lacked the physical strength to fight against him when he came home in a drunken rage to beat me. When I ran away, it was not to save my own skin—I knew he'd take particular vengeance on me when I was forced to return home—but to inflict damage on a different level. I knew that I'd bring scandal to my noble family and my father's name by running away, even if only for one night, as long as I made sure that as many people knew of it as possible. My mother, who never lifted a hand against my beatings, would be ridiculed in her social circles as well. My plan worked—I paid dearly for it, but it worked. _

            Raphael turned from the corridor into a short hallway that preceded a flight of stairs. He rested an elbow on the polished oak railing and leaned forward to grip his face in his hands. _No, that's not why you're doing this, Amy. You wrote in your letter that you wanted to make me happy again. I believe you. You…._

            "Sir Sorel!" came a cry from the adjacent corridor. Raphael straightened instantly, his thoughts fleeing him. 

            "Yes, Adrienne?" he addressed the servant who came barreling around the corner. She flapped a white square of parchment at him excitedly.

            "A messenger just brought this," she answered breathlessly as she surrendered the letter to Raphael. He cracked the wax seal with his thumb and read the message from his daughter. It was dated in November, two months past. "Oh, I can't believe you didn't hear the knock at the door. I heard it all the way in my quarters! And I knew, I just knew it would be a messenger with a letter from Amy," Adrienne babbled until he signaled for her silence with an impatient wave of his hand. 

_Dear Father,_

_I'm leaving Greece today, having finally decided where next I need to travel. I long to tell you all I have discovered, but I fear that you'll come after me—or send Adrienne to hound me down. Just trust that I know what I'm doing and pray for my safe return. And don't threaten to fire Adrienne when she makes that horrid cabbage stew for dinner—you need her as much as I do. _

_Love, Amy_

            _I need Adrienne as much as—what does she mean? _Raphael wondered. He glanced at his servant, meeting her hopeful gaze. 

            "Is she well?" she inquired. Raphael clutched the letter possessively, even though Adrienne could not read. 

            "Yes, she sounds well," he replied, breaking eye contact. "She also mentioned that I should be kind to you."

            "Oh, I'm so glad, I…" Adrienne paused. "She did?" Suddenly, neither she nor her master could summon the will to look at each other.

            "I would be much obliged, however, if you would cook something other than your cabbage stew for dinner tonight," Raphael said awkwardly as he turned and retreated up the winding stairway. He thought he heard a soft giggle as he turned his back, but he could not be certain.


	6. Chapter Six

Tenzing had provided Amy with directions to Kymiri. "Ask for Kungun Zhao and you will be taken care of," he had instructed. _Do I trust him? _Amy wondered as she trudged through knee-deep drifts of snow, heading east to the village. _He saved my life, but he also took Sourris' life. I hope this Kungun Zhao person can provide me with a new mule. I need more supplies as well—I had to abandon the things I could not carry away on my own back. _She paused for a moment beneath the clouded sky and shifted the pack into a slightly different position. A small pile of snow that had accumulated on top of it tumbled down the back of her neck. Amy shivered and muttered a curse.

By the time she reached Kymiri, Amy no longer had the energy to curse. She wanted a warm place to sleep, a place where she could forget she was on this God-forsaken mountain in the Himalayas. 

"Kungun Zhao… I need to speak with Kungun Zhao," Amy mumbled, her speech slipping between French and Chinese. She struggled at first when a strong pair of arms gripped her shoulders but, as the barely had the strength to stand on her own, she let them take the pack from her back and guide her into a hut. She collapsed on a floor that was warm and dry and fell immediately into exhausted slumber. 

Amy awoke some time later to find that her pack had been returned to her. It looked like it might have been rummaged through, and a quick search revealed that her sword was missing. The soul shard was still intact on her person, however. Amy procured a piece of crusty bread from her pack and chewed at it while she considered her situation. The room in which she sat appeared to be normally reserved for storage. It was sectioned off from the rest of the hut by a thick hide flap that acted as a curtain—and somewhat of a sound barrier as well. She heard voices coming from the adjacent room, but she could not make out the words.

_My quest and I are at the mercy of these villagers now, _she thought. _Tenzing said they would take care of me but, if they cannot provide me with the next clue to the Soul Edge's whereabouts, my journey here will have been in vain. Then I am as lost as poor Sourris.  _She wondered if she should go into the next room. Voices rang out in stressed pitches, as if a heated argument was taking place. Amy edged closer to the hide flap and strained to hear the conversation.

"—her here until Tenzing returns."

"—just a girl! What could a girl—"

"—what would a girl—"

"—not the time or place to discuss the Soul Edge—"

"—when he returns," the first voice declared with finality. The other voices fell into a hush. Amy laid back on the floor of the storage room and drew the blanket around her as footsteps approached. A woman poked aside the hide flap.

"She still sleeps. I feel sorry for her," the woman said to the others. 

"There is no need to feel sorry for her. She has the mark of evil on her. If she truly seeks the evil sword, then she must be destroyed—even if she is only a young girl. It is a pity that the evil has drawn itself to her, but we must not feel sorry for her," replied the authorative voice. Amy swallowed hard as the flap fell back into place.

_Did Tenzing guess that I am after the Soul Edge? Kungun Zhao… is that the leader of this village, or is that just some kind of code to alert my intent to these villagers? Oh, why did I trust that boy?! _Amy lamented. _Still, these people must know exactly where the Soul Edge lies. If only I could learn where and manage to leave here alive…. _

When Amy awoke again several hours later, she realized that she must have fallen asleep after overhearing part of the villager's heated conversation. _Was it all a dream then? No, it couldn't be, _she thought. She rose from the floor and peeled back a corner of the hide flap that curtained the storeroom from the rest of the hut. The main room was now empty; did they have that much confidence that she would not attempt an escape? _Of course. They have my weapon, _Amy cursed. She was not about to leave Kymiri without first getting her sword back. _Flamert _was a gift from her father; it was the very same rapier that he had used on his quest for the Soul Edge and meant infinitely more to her than the sword of legend. Quietly, she exited the storeroom and examined the main room. Of course they would not stash the weapon so close to their captive, but she searched anyway. There was a large food-prepatory area, but no pot or kettle was large enough to conceal _Flambert_. The rest of the room was left open and seemed reserved for communal meals or other large gatherings. Besides the colorful woven mats set about the floor, there was little in the way of furnishings.

            Amy gritted her teeth and stepped outside of the hut. _If it's not in someone's personal possession, it might be stored with other weapons. An armory of sorts, _she reasoned. _Although Kymiri seems it has little to fear of war, and my sword would be of little use in a hunt. _She stamped her foot on the packed snow in frustration. _Am I to check every hut? I doubt they will allow me free roam of personal living spaces! _The quest seemed hopeless, but what else could she do but wait for Tenzing to return and order her execution?

            As she decided what to do, a woman approached her and, chattering at her in Chinese, guided Amy back into the hut. 

            "You must stay here. Help me prepare food for the guardian."

            "The guardian?" Amy asked. The older woman seemed surprised to hear the foreigner speak Chinese.

            "Yes. Come with me," she ordered. _Guardian of what? The Soul Blade? _Amy wondered. Momentarily forgoing her plan to search out _Flambert, _she decided to help the woman. The woman ushered her into the food-prepatory area. Amy glanced around the area as the woman, scuffling about, eventually got a fire started on the earthen floor of the rather large kitchen. 

There was a small shrine set on the floor. Atop the miniature altar, Buddha gazed levelly across the food offering that was placed before him. _What will these heathens do with me? _Amy wondered. _If they do not kill me, will I be servant or slave? _

"What will happen to me?" she asked the old woman, not really expecting an answer. 

"You will help me make food for the guardian. Perhaps you will take it to him when Tenzing returns," came the reply. She fixed her aged eyes upon the young woman. "Such a nice girl. Maybe you will stay here," she added. Her tone suggested that Amy's chances of survival were much greater if she avoided the guardian, whoever and whatever it was.

"The guardian. What is it?" Amy asked.

"A man came to Kymiri once, carrying a great evil with him. He asked that our wise village elders destroy it, but they refused. They said that in order for him to rid himself of evil's mark, he must dispose of it himself and guard it for the rest of his days. He is the guardian, and we help him keep his duty," the woman said as she pressed an armful of spicy-smelling greenery into Amy's arms.

"The guardian is a man? What if he dies?" she asked, bewildered.

"Tenzing will take his place. He has been training for many years, learning the ways of the guardian. Please remove the stems from those."

"I think… that I want to see the guardian," Amy said slowly. _Could this man be…? No, that's not possible. But if it is…._


	7. Chapter Seven

Raphael sat alone in his study, gazing fiercely at the small flames dancing in the giant fireplace while he waited for his breakfast with increasing impatience. The fire did little to warm the huge room and he felt the cold gnaw at him almost as sharply as his hunger.

_Amy, where are you now? Are you doing fine on your own, as you letter message indicated? Or, in the time elapsed since then, have you become hungry and afraid in this predatory world?_

The fire flickered spastically and fell to a barely smoldering pile of embers. From above the fireplace, the mounted head of a buck stared blankly at the brooding Frenchman. Since Amy's disappearance, Raphael preferred to take his meals in the seclusion of his study rather than the vast, empty Great Hall. But this morning the emptiness of his great house had overflowed from the larger rooms and seeped into every tiny place, making everywhere feel cavernous and hollow.

The minutes trickled by, each one irrevocably stretching time and space. Still, Adrienne did not come to tend his fire of bring his breakfast.

Finally, Raphael could take it no longer. He rose from his overstuffed armchair and stormed through the winding corridors to the kitchen. The halls seemed to grow longer with each hurried step, but at last they gave way to his destination.

The kitchen hearth was cold, last night's ashes unswept. Adrienne, absent from the scene, had not even begun the morning chores. The cistern dripped once; the sound of the falling droplet echoed off the stone walls. He was alone now, truly alone. He felt as if he had walked into a bad dream.

The window carved into the kitchen door looked out to a gray world, vague and featureless. Raphael walked to it and stared through the thick pane of glass, wondering why it had come to this. Why had he tried to build a family when he knew he was fated to be alone?

Suddenly the door gave way before him and a bundled shape collapsed at the doorstep. Fruits and vegetables spilled from a pair of overturned baskets.

"Adrienne!" he cried in surprise, at once realizing who the bundled shape was. He stooped down and offered her his hand, but she drew away from him. He stepped back, confused. "Adrienne?"

"Oh, I hope I haven't hurt it, falling like that," she said breathlessly as she climbed to her knees and patted the pockets of her coat, checking for damage. From one pocket she procured a fuzzy, black ball. "Are you alright, kitty?"

"Kitty?" Raphael asked, staring in disbelief at the winded, disarranged servant and the even more pathetic creature that Adrienne had just called "kitty." It was the skinniest kitten he had ever seen. Its yellow eyes were huge globes protruding from its tiny, scruffy body. Raphael looked away from its pleading eyes and met the worried gaze of his servant.

"Oh, I am so sorry, sir," she said, babbling apologies while he took the kitten from her arms and helped her to her feet. "On my way back from the market—and I was already late because I had such a time trying to get a good price for the pears you wanted—I passed a garbage heap and saw this poor creature picking among the trash. It didn't run when I came near it, unlike any other stray. In fact, it came up to me and meowed, all friendly-like. I felt sorry for it—it having nothing but garbage to eat—so I kneeled down on the street and offered it a bit of the fish you had me get. It hardly looked at the fish, but leaped straight for me and clung desperately to my cloak, meowing pathetically. I thought to myself, 'This isn't just a stray—this was someone's pet. It's used to people taking care of it. It can't survive on the street!' Well, I also thought how dreadfully lonely the master has been, and I..." she trailed off and looked up at Raphael with a guilty smile.

He sighed and, placing the kitten back into her pocket, began to gather up the spilled groceries.

"Of course, I could take it to my mother's. I don't want to cause trouble for you, sir," she continued uncertainly.

Raphael smiled in spite of himself. Adrienne would never leave him. She was always thinking of him, and tried her hardest to ease his pain over Amy's prolonged absence.

"You'll do no such thing," he said, hoisting up the baskets with their contents replaced. "I guess I'll have to skip _petit-déjeuner _and go straight to _déjeuner. _But make sure to cook something for the kitty as well."

"Oh, of course," she replied happily. "And then there's the wash. I really have a lot to catch up on—I'm so sorry. You won't catch me late again."

"The wash can wait. But the Great Hall could do with an airing-out. Of course, I hate to eat there alone. Would you care to have lunch with me?"

Adrienne's dark eyes grew wide with surprise. "Oh, uh, certainly, sir," she replied. She always took her meals in the kitchen. She was always very careful so as to avoid trespassing on her master's personal space. She liked to think that she made herself seen and heard as little as possible, but really her presence in the manor house was quite obvious—and quite comforting to Raphael.

"I'm going to get the little scoundrel cleaned up in the meantime," he said as the kitten poked its head out of Adrienne's coat pocket. The little creature was truly filthy. If it had once been someone's pet, it had clearly been neglected for a long time.

"What should we name him?" Adrienne asked, smiling.

_Amy,_ Raphael thought immediately. But he wasn't sure if the kitten was a girl.

"How about... Whisper?" Adrienne suggested. "When it jumped up onto me, I thought I heard it whisper my name...."

"Whisper it is, then," said Raphael as he placed the baskets inside. He lifted Whisper from Adrienne's pocket and cradled its scruffy, emaciated body in his arms. _You'll never be alone again, Whisper,_ he thought.

"You mustn't be so generous toward me, just because Amy said that you should be kind to me. You have always been kind to me," Adrienne said as she placed the lunch platters on the table between her place and Raphael's. They were situated at one end of a long table, near the window that faced out to the garden. Sunlight shone through the window, illuminating Raphael's golden hair. Beyond him, in the garden outside, roses and weeds grew together in a tangle of neglect. Adrienne was not much of a gardener, and Raphael claimed that the liked the garden in its natural, chaotic state. To him, Queen Anne's Lace was as beautiful as the rose.

"I know," he replied to her statement. It sounded stupid to his ears the moment he voiced his reply, but what else could he say? Adrienne sat down next to him and they began to eat the soup—thankfully not cabbage this time—and fresh bread that she had prepared. _But you have been like a mother to Amy. My daughter's mother deserves at least my kindness and generosity. _His thought faded into the stiff silence.

Whisper finished his fish quickly and began exploring the large room, his movements easing the stillness between the master and servant. They watched him poke in the corners and bat at the hanging tapestries, and at last settle on the sunlit window for a nap. Adrienne might have seen a chaos of weeds through that window, and Raphael a natural order, but they both focused on Whisper.

"Thank you, Adrienne, for brining him home."


	8. Chapter Eight

Amy hacked frustratedly at the flank of meat. She was anxious to end her role as a servant. For three weeks now she had slaved as a kitchen helper for Mui, the woman in charge of supervising her. Each day, as Tenzing's return was forestalled even longer, she gave Amy increasingly more tasks to do. The village of Kymiri seemed to be holding its breath until the guardian-in-training returned, and everyone became increasingly anxious as the anticipated event slid forever further into the unforeseeable future. It affected Amy no less than her captors. She had made up her mind three weeks ago that she would meet the guardian, but Mui tested her resolve to go through with the plan every day.

"Many of us wish the guardian had never come, or that the elders had sent him and his evil away. We are not like other villages in this country, for a part of our lives will always belong to that great evil. We provide food for the guardian, we train men to take his place. We shall have a succession of guardians as the cycle continues, but the evil will never lessen no matter how many times the cycle repeats," the woman spoke now. Amy spared a glance back, her fists bloodied by the meat and her teeth gritted in frustration. Mui seemed not to notice the hard glare, but continued sweeping the floor of the hut.

"Some say that the evil is so great that any woman who goes near the guarded chasm will become barren. And sometimes the evil energy manifests itself in the form of evil apparition, false spirits of the victim's departed relatives, who commune with him until their dark whispers claim his sanity. But worst of all is perhaps the lure of the evil's power. It draws to it the souls of heartless and greedy men—people, I fear, who will one day destroy this village in their quest to gain what we help to protect," she went on, casting a suspicious and appraising glance at Amy.

The girl looked away sharply, striking another cleaving blow to the flank of meat. She was tired of hearing about the "great evil." She was almost entirely certain that it referred to the legendary Soul Edge. She wanted to know more about the man who had brought it to this far corner of the world, but Mui, as talkative as she was, apparently found it inappropriate to speak of the nature of the guardian. He was a man, Amy knew that much. Could it be one of the warriors who had chased the dream of the legendary sword ten years ago? After her father had failed to retrieve the Soul Edge, losing his claim to the blade and very nearly losing his life to Nightmare. What if Nightmare had taken possession of the sword after defeating her father? Someone might have claimed it after all, then disappeared along with it. Something had then prompted him to destroy the Soul Edge, and that desire had led him all the way around the world. It made sense, but it also did not. Amy couldn't fathom how anyone could be possessed of the desire to destroy the Soul Edge. It must be part of the blade's "great evil," she decided, that even when its indomitable power was in one's hands, one still could not know contentment. _However, I know Father will feel peace when he holds the Soul Edge in his hands. He is not so addicted to the want of having it that, when his want is filled, he would ever have to set about the journey in reverse. I don't believe in evil, in any case—or good, for that matter. There is only what line's in peoples' hearts._

That evening, when the meat Amy had prepared lay steaming in individual piles in the villagers' bowls, Tenzing returned. He entered the communal feasting hut as casually as if he had merely returned from a day of hunting. Amy stared at him, as surprised as the others gathered there, until Mui pressed a bowl into Amy's hands and bid her serve him. Then someone called for wine, and she sent Amy to another hut to fetch a cask of liquor.

As Amy stood outside the smaller storage hut, she came to the realization that this was the first time she had been free of supervision. This was her chance to search the village residences for _Flamberge_. But it was also her first to opportunity in a long time to speak with Tenzing. She needed to ask him about the guardian. She had to make certain that she would accompany him on his next visit to the keeper of the Soul Edge. She stood poised in the entryway of the storage hut, frozen with indecision.

_Even if my journey here amounts to nothing, I must not lose _Flamberge. _It was a gift from Father, and it belonged to him once,_ she decided. She did not have the time to agonize over her course of action if she was to accomplish anything at all. Acting on her impulse, she bolted away from the communal feasting hut and toward the residences.

She searching the neatly arranged living quarters as quickly as possible, hoping she would not fail to discover it in her haste. Most of the huts were relatively small and sparsely decorated, but she had to be sure to check within baskets and other articles of storage—and put the removed items back in place as neatly as possible. She grew desperate as she felt her time growing short. Any minute now, someone might be sent to check on her. It would not take them long to find her. Then they would place her under stricter guard until... until when? There was no longer a "when." Tonight was the night that Tenzing decided her fate. If he ordered her to die, then she would need _Flamberge_ to ensure a chance that she lived to see another day.

_This is crazy, _she realized. _I can't fight my way out of this village, and then still hope to find the guardian. I should have stayed at the communal feasting hut and spoken with Tenzing. I should have convinced him that, instead of killing me, he should take me to the guardian.... _She raced into another hut, her head spinning as she searched for her missing sword. The last light of day was quickly fading, decreasing her odds of success, draining away every last one of her options.

Golden light exploded from the snow-covered mountains as the sun released its dying rays. For a moment, the brilliant display set the village aglow. A dazzle of silver caught Amy's eye. Flamberge! She snatched it from a wooden rack, when it hung adjacent to an exotic recurve bow. Through her panic, it struck her how odd a pair the two weapons made—the rapier, a symbol of her Western world and the bow of this foreign country that rested above the clouds. _Flamberge_'s familiar weight sent confidence and relief flowing through her body. But as she turned to leave the hut, a single voice stripped these sensations away.

"Amy," said Tenzing, his voice grave. "Where you are going, you won't need your sword."

Amy stepped into her fighting stance, _Flamberge_ held protectively before her. Tenzing held his hands up to show that he was unarmed. But she could see that he had adopted a ready stance as well.

"The guardian is very interested in you," he went on, his voice coolly casual. "He requests that I bring you to him. I promise that no one here will harm you, Amy. If need be, I'll protect you myself. But you must surrender your weapon for now. I will return it to you after the guardian has seen you, but you must promise never to come to Kymiri again."

Amy lowered _Flamberge, _resting the point of the blade on the floor. Tenzing sounded sincere. In any case, what choice did she have but to trust him? He was presenting her with her goal. She might as well accept what he had in store for her.

"Here," he said, suddenly sounding apologetic. "May the power of Fire Monkey protect you instead for a time." He removed a necklace from under his robes and offered it to her. A wooden charm, intricately carved with spiraling patterns and painted in bright red hues, dangled from the end of a leather cord. Amy reached for it with her left hand, and for a moment her skin brushed Tenzing's. An unexplainable, unspoken exchange occurred between the two. As the warmth of his hand faded from her cold skin, she dropped _Flamberge _and placed the Fire Monkey necklace around her neck. As night enclosed the village, she decided that she would trust Tenzing one more time. Just long enough to see her quest to the end.


End file.
